


Riots

by crimsondust



Series: Fragments from the daily lives of Les Amis de l'A B C [11]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Backstory, Canon Era, Gen, Injury, Printer Enjolras, june 1831
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 04:39:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7962784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsondust/pseuds/crimsondust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feuilly is injured in the riots, Joly and Enjolras take care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Riots

**Author's Note:**

> Back story to [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7521610).

**Feuilly, Enjolras and Joly**

Enjolras made his way past the hospital beds to another section in the hospital dedicated to emergency cases. He paused to glance at a child who was screaming in pain. The look was tender and sympathetic but in another moment his face set into a grim line as he navigated his way past the harried nurses and physicians.

‘Joly!’ he exclaimed, sighing with relief as soon as he had managed to locate his friend.

Joly was bandaging a young patient’s arm and telling him a story while he did so.

‘And so you know, the prince and the princess ended happily ever after.’

‘What about the goblins?’

Joly scratched his nose in perplexity, ‘The goblins too ended happily, as they went back home?’

The child seemed satisfied at this ending and Joly heaved a sigh of relief.   

Enjolras waited until the child had smiled and had been ushered away by his grateful parents before placing a hand on Joly’s shoulders.

‘I would not ask you unless it was urgent, but I was hoping that you could come for a while to my rooms.’

Joly turned around to look at him. Enjolras’ face looked tired though still rosy and resplendent. He sported a black eye and a bruised lip.

‘I, yes, of course. What happened to you Enjolras?’ Joly was alarmed.

‘This?’ Enjolras smiled wryly, ‘I got into a fight with a few people. But that is nothing. Feuilly is injured. The police blamed him for being a principal instigator in the workers’ riot and they have been interrogating him since yesterday, they released him a few hours ago.’

Joly rushed ahead of Enjolras, but then doubled back, ‘I forgot my coat and my bag.’

‘Where is Combeferre?’ Joly asked, as they walked hurriedly across the streets. Enjolras was walking at a brisk pace and Joly had to frequently jog to keep up with him, ‘I haven’t seen him at the hospital today. He’s usually here on the weekends.’

Enjolras looked worried, ‘I haven’t heard from him or Bahorel in two days. It wasn’t supposed to take this long,’ he frowned, ‘but I trust Bahorel.’

Joly nodded. He knew about Combeferre and Bahorel travelling to make secret alliances, something that was taking a lot more time because of the fact that the police had been enjoying paying visits to Café Musain from time to time. Their visits were always anticipated and all incriminating evidence (including the map of the Republic on the wall), hidden well in advance. It was therefore reasonable to assume that their society’s activities were being kept under some sort of surveillance.  

‘What happened to you?’ Joly asked again as they reached the narrow street outside Enjolras’ lodgings and Joly had to pause to catch up with his breath and shift the heavy bag from one hand to another.

‘A group of men tried to attack the print shop and break the windows during the riots. At least one of the group may be a legitimist but I am more convinced they might be undercover National Guards, sent by the inept Fannicot in which case, they got a fight they thoroughly deserved.’ His voice carried a hint of irritation and amusement and Joly could not help give a small giggle at the words.  

‘You fought them off?’ Joly looked at Enjolras with admiration.

‘There were only two, the rest ran off, but yes.’ Enjolras smiled.

‘But you could be arrested, if it was really the National Guards. I’ve heard reports of lootings and pillagings by the police during these past couple of days because of the riots.’

Enjolras gave his friend a half smile and then rushed upstairs with Joly following behind.

Joly glanced at Feuilly’s face, which was pallid underneath the dust and grime. Feuilly was biting his tongue to stop screaming from the pain but even then he could not stop the tears which were running from his eyes. As soon as Enjolras stood beside him, he grasped his hand tightly. 

‘He cannot be moved. There was no other choice but to bring you here.’

Joly was looking at the deep gash that was visible on Feuilly’s leg underneath his trousers. It had been bandaged but he knew from instinct that part of the wound would have festered as there was a certain smell that accompanies such occurrences. He tore open part of the trouser and removed the bandages. He had been right, part of the wound was discoloured and yellow.    

Enjolras looked at Joly with concern in his eyes.

‘It will be alright. Nothing worse than what I see daily.’ Joly reassured him as he opened his bag.

Enjolras turned to Feuilly to smooth his hair from his forehead and to console him that everything would be fine.

Joly handed Enjolras a bottle, ‘Here, give him this, it’s laudanum. It’ll help with the pain.’

Enjolras helped Feuilly take a little bit of laudanum and Joly set to work with his surgeon’s scalpel, deftly removing the pus filled areas of the wound. Feuilly cried out with pain, while Enjolras tried to talk to him to distract him.

‘Talk to us about international politics.’ Joly smiled.

Feuilly grimaced and clenched his teeth and then nodded, before starting to talk about the first thing that came to his mind. Under the effect of laudanum, his speech was a little slurred and he laughed in between, but he kept talking, ‘So, I would say, the partition of Poland in 1772…’

‘There.’ Joly said as he finished dressing the wound. He walked to the washbasin to rinse his hands.

Feuilly gave a grateful smile to Enjolras and Joly before drifting off to sleep from exhaustion and laudanum.

Joly joined Enjolras in the next room.

There was an anger in Enjolras' eyes which Joly had rarely seen, ‘When I heard what happened to Feuilly, for a moment I couldn't think clearly. I wouldn’t know what I’d do if something happened to him. I feel the same way about the rest of you…’

‘I know how you feel. I was angry too, when I saw the deep wound and the bruises on his hands, it will take a few days of complete bed rest for him to recover,’ Joly was pacing around the room in thought.

Enjolras caught up Joly’s hands. ‘Thank you for what you did.’

Joly kissed Enjolras’ forehead lightly, ‘You should rest too. I’ll stay with Feuilly for a few hours.’

**Author's Note:**

> The real reason of Enjolras' Printer shop being attacked is even more bizarre and the whole thing starts with a very young Enjolras, but that is a story for another time.


End file.
